


The Gods and Kings of Her Heart

by HoneyCoconut



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Also Someone Gets Injured, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Blindness, Corruption, F/M, Fluff, Getting Together, How Do I Tag, Light Angst, Marriage Proposal, but it's not graphic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 15:05:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19253629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoneyCoconut/pseuds/HoneyCoconut
Summary: Her skin crawls with innumerable ant bites at the thought of treating anyone like a god, goddess or deity.But so what if she’ll never worship Lance like a god. She’ll set him on the throne next to hers, and she’ll love him with all she has.





	The Gods and Kings of Her Heart

“Lance...”, she starts, and for once, she doesn’t quite know how to continue. 

Lance raises an eyebrow and turns to face her fully. The light from inside the ballroom catches in his hair like liquid gold.

She bites her lip, nervous.

 

“Do...do you think I’m pretty?”

 

She knows it’s a stupid question, because she knows that she’s far more than her looks. She knows that she’s smart- not only smart. She knows that she’s _brilliant._ Maybe not when it comes to people, but she learns fast, and she’s got a hand for technology and for finding flaws in plans and machines and so much more. 

So she knows that her looks don’t really matter. 

 

Yet she still wants to know if Lance thinks of her as pretty. She knows that she’s no breath-taking beauty like Allura is, she’s seen herself in the mirror, after all. 

 

“Of course I think you’re pretty”, Lance says softly, leaning closer to her, and Pidge’s breath catches at the bottom of her throat. 

To her relief, the low light hides her blush when Lance reaches out to brush the hair hanging into her eyes out of her face. She smiles at him, unsure if the dancing butterflies in her stomach will allow her voice to be steady.

“I think you’re beautiful”, he whispers then, and her heart might skip a beat or several, she can’t help but frown. 

“Why?”, she asks, “I...I mean, I can believe if you think I’m pretty, but I’m not beautiful. I don’t have a symmetric face, and I have dark rings under my eyes most of the time, and my hair’s usually a mess, and- “

Lance cuts her off by gently putting a finger over her lips, shutting her up. 

 

“I’m not talking about that”, he explains quietly, but Pidge doesn’t understand. To her luck Lance understands, which is quite like him. Quite unlike her. 

 

He’s the one who’s good with people, while she’s really not. 

 

“I’m not talking about your appearance”, Lance continues, and she leans into it when he caresses her cheek, letting his hand slide down to rest at the side of her neck. “What I mean is the way you are. Have you ever seen yourself smile?” 

 

Lance chuckles softly, and Pidge finds herself shifting closer to Lance on the bench. 

 

“You look gorgeous when you smile. Your whole face opens up, and you’re brighter than any sun. And when you laugh- god”, he chuckles again, pulling his hand away to card it through his hair, pushing his hair back, “when you laugh, I understand why sailors rush into sirens’ arms.” 

 

Pidge looks down at her lap, more blood rushing to her cheeks. This isn’t what she’d expected to happen, but she sure as hell isn’t going to stop it. Maybe it’s selfish, but she wants to hear more of Lance telling her what he likes about her. 

 

“Then there’s the way you look when you finally get one of your projects to work.” Lance reaches for her hand, looking down. Lance’s skin is electricity against hers. “You light up, set aflame by your success, and it’s the most beautiful thing to watch.” He slowly looks up, meeting her eyes hesitantly. He sounds so very confident, but Pidge can see that he’s not, not completely. 

 

“Lance...”, she whispers, but she’s not sure what she wants to say. Nothing, probably. She just wants to taste his name on her tongue. 

He, of course, understands, smiles, and continues. 

“Or when you learn something new”, he says, squeezing her hand lightly enough that she’s not sure if it truly happened. “Your eyes always shine with the underlying glint of curiosity, but every now and then, there’s a million stars caught in your eyes, waiting to be set free.” 

 

She wants to lean closer, wants to kiss him. But she’s frozen in place, because she can’t believe that Lance thinks of her as beautiful when she’s only being herself. 

But she too adores Lance because he is the way he is, so maybe he liking her for the way she is isn’t too far off. 

 

“You’re so _fierce_ , it leaves me breathless sometimes.” 

Pidge notices that Lance has been leaning closer. A few seconds later, she realises that she has been, too. 

“You know what you want, and _nothing_ will stop you from getting it. You’ll drown every single sun if that’s what it takes for you to reach your goal”, Lance breathes out. 

 

Pidge glances at Lance’s lips. 

“Lance, shut up and kiss me.” It’s an invitation, a plea, a prayer. Or- maybe not a prayer. She’s not religious, and he’s not a god. It would be quite unfortunate for her if he wanted to be treated like a god – Pidge is sure that lots of girls would love to do just that. It’s not in her nature though; her skin crawls with innumerable ant bites at the thought of treating anyone like a god, goddess or deity.

 

But so what if she’ll never worship Lance like a god. She’ll set him on the throne next to hers, and she’ll love him with all she has. 

 

And if what she has to offer is different from what Lance wants, then she’ll find happiness elsewhere. 

She won’t have to, though, because Lance grins, sending sparks up her spine, into her cheeks and chest. 

“And then there’s that too”, he murmurs against her lips, threading his hand into the hair at the back of her head. Her eyes flutter shut once he’s close enough for his face to go blurry. 

 

The first brush of their lips is barely there, a whisper of warm, soft lips against each other. Pidge wraps her arms around Lance’s shoulders instinctively. It feels right; it feels like her arm belongs there.

 

Lance’s hand settles at her waist, gently pulling her closer. Pidge knows that he’s leaving her room to back out if she wants to- but she doesn’t want to back out, she wants this, has rarely wanted something more. She presses closer, her blood rushing through her head when she hears his quiet, almost surprised hum as her chest is squished against his stomach.

His hand is sliding up her arm, leaving goosebumps and the ghost of warmth behind.

 

When they both need to breathe, they pause the kiss but don’t break apart, their bodies tied together by invisible red strands of silk. Their noses are still touching and their eyes still closed as they heave for breath, sharing the little air between them.

Pidge lets herself stay molten against Lance. He’s warm, and the fabric of his suit is smooth and soft. The colourless night air is a stark contrast with its coolness, and she wonders if it would be strange if she climbed onto Lance’s lap to let herself be cocooned in his warmth.

 

Perhaps not. She can’t quite find the courage to do so though, and she giggles against Lance’s flushed skin; knowing that Lance is breathing in her soft laugh leaves her numb and burning.

“What is it?”, Lance whispers, and she’s drunk off the knowledge that he’s whispering straight into her lungs.

Her head sinks to Lance’s shoulder and she opens her eyes, her lashes brushing against his jawbone softly, leaving behind the barest trace of mascara; she’ll have to ask Allura for more permanent make-up. She reaches up to wipe it off Lance’s jaw, her fingers gentle and cool in comparison to Lance- very likely because both their bodies are not very concerned with keeping the blood in their hands when it could just as well rush hot and dizzying to their heads and through their hearts.

“I just can’t believe that I was nervous about this”, she replies, her voice barely louder than a whisper of wind, but just as mild. “I mean, we fight an ancient empire every day. This-“ she gestures between them, the movements of her hand slow and at ease “- seems like an awfully ridiculous thing to be nervous over.”

 

Lance grins. At least it feels like it; her head is a bit too close to his neck for her to see his expression clearly, but she can see the corners of his lips pulling up with amusement, and she can feel his cheeks shift with it.

 

“Aww, you were nervous”, he teases her, his arm tightening around her waist, pulling her close and almost into his lap.

She rolls her eyes good-naturedly and pretends to try and pull away. “Shut up”, she smiles, “you must’ve been nervous too, admit it.”

 

She allows Lance to pull their bodies flush against each other, leaning her head on his shoulder again.

“To be honest, I’d be somewhat offended if you weren’t nervous.” She glances up and gives him a playful smile, even though she’s serious. Lance seems so sure of himself, so unbothered, it makes her fidgety with the knowledge of how many girls he’s flirted with. She doesn’t want to be one of those girls. It soothes her to know that Lance is smart enough not to flirt with a girl he works with daily if he’s not serious.

All she can hope for is that he’s serious enough.

 

“Of course I was nervous- still am”, Lance chuckles, looking into the empty, sparkling sky above them.

Neither of them talk for a while, and it’s not an uncomfortable silence, so Pidge doesn’t see the need to try and start a conversation. She closes her eyes, sinking into the easy lull of warm touch and soft sound.

 

Lance wraps his arm around her more comfortably at one point, and she leans into him lazily. He’s a safe haven, and she plans to take advantage of that. If he lets her.

 

And deep down, she knows that he’ll always let her take refuge in his arms.


End file.
